My Brother's Keeper (9 page)

Jon kissed him on the shoulder. “You won’t.”

Jon put a plate in front of Rudy. “Since we didn’t get hotdogs at the carnival, I made my famous chili cheese super dogs.” The split hotdogs were tucked into a bun and drowned in chili, onions and cheese.

He handed one to Ellis. “This looks so disgusting it can only be good. I think I’m going to need a fork.”

Jon caught his arm. “Nope, no fork. You eat these babies with your hands.”

“Then I need towels.” Ellis retrieved paper towels from the kitchen. He layered Rudy’s lap and tucked some in the front of his shirt.

Jon fought to pick up one of the hotdogs and not wind up with a lap full of chili. He took a bite. Slightly sweet with mild spices, the meaty flavor made his stomach growl for more. This had to be his best batch yet.

Rudy stared at his plate.

“What’s wrong?” Jon caught a wayward drop of chili off his lip. “I thought you liked hotdogs.”

“It’s yellow.”

“What’s yellow?”

“Rudy, it’s cheese. You like cheese,” Ellis said.

“I like white cheese, this is yellow cheese. I can’t eat it.”

Ellis shrugged at Jon. “Sorry.”

“No problem. I should have remembered.” He took Rudy’s plate to the kitchen. With some creative scraping he removed the cheese and patched the holes in the chili pile with a few fresh spoonfuls from the crockpot.

He returned the plate to Rudy, who said, “No more yellow.”

“Nope.”

“And what are you supposed to say?” Ellis nudged Rudy.

“Thanks, Jon.”

“Any time. Now eat up.” Jon took another bite and lost a glob on his chin.

Ellis wiped at a stain on his shirt. “You and your hands-only idea.”

“Take small bites and don’t spill.” Rudy gave a demonstration.

“You know,” Jon said. “It’s pretty bad when he’s doing better than either of us.”

Ellis gave Jon a dirty look. He tore loose more paper towels and stuffed them in the collar of his shirt, then handed some to Jon. Now they could all look ridiculous.

At least, they wouldn’t ruin their clothes.

Rudy talked around a mouthful of food. “Can we have these every night?”

“You’d get tired of them,” Ellis said.

“No, I wouldn’t. I love famous chili cheese super dogs. But with no cheese.” A glob hit the napkin on the front of his shirt. “Uh oh.”

“That’s what the napkins are for.”

“I’m not in trouble?”

“No, now eat your lunch.”

“I still think he’s doing a better job than you or me.” Jon nodded at Ellis’s makeshift bib which was suffering heavy casualties.

“You’re one to talk.”

Jon’s bib had even more ever-growing red stains.

Rudy licked the last of the chili from his fingers. “Can we go to the park and play baseball? They have a field there. It’s not as big as a real field but it has bases, lines, a pitcher’s mound, and seats for people to watch.”

After what happened yesterday? Jon cast a look toward Ellis. He went into the kitchen, and came back with a wet rag.

“Ellis?”

“Let me think about it.” Ellis cleaned Rudy’s face.

“But I really want to go.”

“I know.”

“You’re still mad about last night.”

Ellis removed the napkins from Rudy’s shirt and lap and piled them all on the plate. “I’m not mad at you. I told you that.”

“You’re mad at Lenny.”

Ellis clenched his hands. “Yes.”

Rudy looked at Jon. “Jon can go with us. Lenny won’t bother us if Jon is around.” Ellis carried everything back into the kitchen. Rudy leaned closer to Jon. “Lenny is scared of you because you’re stronger than him and can beat him up.”

Jon would have loved the opportunity to do just that. “Fighting isn’t the answer.” No matter how much he wanted to make Lenny bleed.

“Please, can we go?” Rudy said. “I’ll give you some of my baseball cards.”

“I don’t want your baseball cards.” Worry lines made creases in the corners of Ellis’s eyes.

“How about this,” Jon said. “We’ll go out front and play.”

“There’s no bases or pitcher’s mound or lines,” Rudy said.

“We can make bases out of rocks and we don’t need lines.”

“How will you know if it’s a foul?”

“There won’t be any fouls.”

Rudy’s face scrunched up. “Pitcher’s mound?”

“I’ll know where to stand when I throw the ball.”

“How?”

“Because I’m that good.”

Rudy grinned. “I’ll go get my stuff.” He scurried out of his chair and the heavy beat of his steps followed him up stairs. Jon shook his head.

“What?” Ellis said.

“I’m just amazed that at his size, he still manages to sounds like a dancing elephant.”

Ellis laughed. “Wait till winter when he’s wearing boots.”

Till winter. Because Jon would be here. Jon caught Ellis’s hand.

“Have I told you that I love you today?”

Ellis pursed his mouth. “Hmmm, I can’t recall.”

“Well, I love you.” Jon kissed the back of Ellis’s hand. “I love you more than anything.”

A beautiful smile shaped Ellis’s lips.

Another round of heavy steps thundered down the stairs. From somewhere near the front of the house, Rudy said, “I’m ready!”

“I guess that’s my cue.” Jon stood.

“Thanks.” Ellis kissed him.

“No problem.”

“I’m still ready,” Rudy said.

“I’m getting there.”

Rudy stood by the door with a baseball bat in one hand and a ball in the other. He bounced from foot to foot.

“I’ve gotta get my shoes on. Go on out and wait for me but don’t get off the porch.” Jon stomped his feet into his tennis shoes.

From the front porch Rudy said, “I didn’t touch it. I didn’t, Jon. I didn’t.”

“Touch what?”

“I didn’t. I promise.”

Jon opened the door.

“I promise. I didn’t touch it. I didn’t.” Tears streaked Rudy’s face.

Jon followed Rudy’s gaze.

A bizarre object made of brown fur with strips of gleaming red, slowly spun at the end of a noose tied to one of the hanging plant hooks at the edge of the porch. Entrails spilled over the railing in shiny ropes. Blood droplets made crimson flowers on the white paint.

As it made a full turn, dead eyes gave definition to the misshapen head. The dog’s tongue hung over the edge of its jaw.

“I didn’t touch it. I didn’t.”

“I know. I know. It’s not your fault.” Jon took Rudy’s bat and pushed him inside the house.

Ellis’s voice came from somewhere inside. “Rudy, what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t touch it.”

“Touch what?” The screen door swung open. “Jon?” Ellis jerked back. “Jesus Christ.”

“Get back inside.” Jon waved him back.

“Lenny did this, didn’t he?” The surprised in Ellis’s expression turned hard. “He was here. On our porch.” He slapped the doorjamb. “That bastard was here and we didn’t even know it.”

“Ellis, go inside and lock the doors.”

“A little gift for Queer Boy and the retard.” Lenny’s voice echoed from around the other side of the house. “Do you like it?”

Jon launched himself off the porch landing in the flower bed. The anger burning through his veins dulled the sharp jab in his knee. He ran in the direction of Lenny’s voice. Gravel shot up from under his feet as he rounded the corner and skidded to a halt.

The grassy area beside the house was empty. He jogged up the bike trail in the direction of the tree line. With the dense undergrowth and new leaves on the branches, it was impossible to see very far.

Lenny’s laugh echoed from beyond the blotchy shadows and broken bits of sun. “What’cha gonna do, Mr. Marshall? Arrest me?”

“No,” Jon growled. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” Jon headed toward the woods. Just yards inside the trees, briars dug into his arms and tore at the legs of his jeans, leaving burning red lines crisscrossed over his skin.

To Jon’s right, there was a crackle of sticks and leaves. Lenny’s laugh came from the opposite direction.

Dappled light played across the underbrush. The effect created movement where there was none. Jon picked his way deeper into the forest.

“Why not come out and face me?” Jon readjusted his grip on the bat. “Or do you only pick on people who can’t fight back?”

The soft shuffle of deadwood drew Jon’s attention. It was close, maybe a dozen yards at the most. He searched the clumps of brushes and trees. Still nothing.

“One of these days, Mr. Marshal, you won’t be around to get in my way.” Lenny’s voice traveled from behind a thicket of larger trees.

Jon stepped over a rotting log and waded through a clump of vines. Up ahead, the trees and brush were sparser, making it easier to move. It should have been impossible for Lenny to stay out of sight with nothing but an ocean of duff covering the forest floor.

A mound of leaves moved and Jon whirled. Lenny came up from under a blanket of cover. Jon lunged only to be jerked back by the rope around his neck.

He dropped the bat and shoved his hands under the noose to stop it from crushing his windpipe. Jon was hauled off the ground.

Lenny and two other men were dressed in camouflage, covered in synthetic leaves. Smears of black and green concealed their skin, making the whites of their eyes stand out in stark contrast.

The one holding the rope, tied off the end to a sapling.

It didn’t take long for the dry pain of the rope cutting into Jon’s fingers to give way to numbness.

Lenny pulled the hood of his jacket back. “Now aren’t you the picture of irony? All strung up like the pig you are.”

Jon strained against the rope, getting just enough pressure off his throat to pull in a whistling breath.

“Shame you won’t get to have a front row seat to the party.” Lenny slapped Jon’s feet, making him spin. “I figured we’d start with the retard then move to the main course.” Jon kicked, but Lenny jumped out of range. “Now, now, don’t get your little faggot panties in a wad. If you’re not dead by the time we get done making Queer Boy scream, you should at least be able to see the flames.”

Jon clenched his teeth. “I’m…going…to…kill…you.”

“Sure you are, Mr. Marshal.” Lenny grinned. “Now excuse us while we go get the truck and retrieve our gear.” All three headed deeper into the woods. “And don’t worry, we made sure to bring marshmallows.”

Fuck.

Black spots burst in front of Jon’s eyes with every heartbeat. His only chance to get free of the rope was to get enough slack, and for that he needed a way to lift himself higher.

If he could get footing on one of trees, but the closest ones were no thicker than his forearm.

Jon lifted his legs and dropped them back, pushing and pulling his weight until he had enough swing to put him close enough to hook his heel on a scraggly limb. The momentum pulled him around again, yanking his foot off. Swinging back into place brought his full weight down on his hands. The muscles in his arms burned. He spun until he faced the tree again, then he kicked out with both feet and hooked his ankles around the skinny trunk.

Inch by inch Jon moved his hold up the tree. A chunk of bark broke loose, shifting his weight, pulling the rope tighter and mashing the back of his hands against his throat. Jon pulled against the tension, gaining a hair’s breadth of space.

A ragged pain emerged from the numbness in his fingers and traveled up his arms.

If he didn’t make it this time, his arms would give out and the pressure of his hands against his neck would cut off the blood flow of his carotid artery.

Dying didn’t scare Jon as badly as Ellis dying at Lenny’s hands.

Jon slid his foot higher, causing his tennis shoe to shift off his heel. The heavy socks he wore snagged on rough wood and he was able to get a better hold with each inch he gained.

The weight on his windpipe eased and air refilled his lungs. Jon freed one hand and tried to grab the sapling. His swollen fingers failed to close.

“C’mon, damn it.”

He shook his hand, sending in a rush of pins and needles. Wiggling them shot a bolt of lightening up his nerve endings. He bit back a scream. Again he forced the movement. The invisible needles became hungry mouths, chewing him alive. As the purple flowed from his fingers he clenched his grip, rekindling the ache in his joints.

Jon tightened his legs and was able to hook his arm around the tree. A few more inches higher slackened the noose enough to free his other hand. Jon worked his fingers open and closed. Feeling returned to the left one, and partially to the right.

Jon shimmied high enough up the tree to get the rope from around his neck.

He dropped to the ground. Wet leaves and hidden sticks shifted underfoot. He lost his balance and briars tore bloody lines down his cheek.

Jon shoved himself up. The sound of his bad knee popping was louder than the branches snapping underfoot. He grabbed the baseball bat. The weight made his fatigued arms tremble.

Adrenaline pumping through his body numbed the new scratches ripped across his skin as he ran toward the house.

As he emerged from the woods he spotted an old rusty pickup parked under the low hanging branches of a cedar tree in the front yard.

Jon eased across the patch of open ground as Lenny and his two companions unloaded the truck. When Jon reached the side of the house he ducked behind a hydrangea. One of the men had rope slung over his shoulder and duct tape in his hand. He grinned as he approached the front porch.

Jon charged. The man had just enough time to look surprised before the bat connected with his head. The impact slung a fan of blood through the air.

Jon was already running across the yard before the body hit the ground.

The cocky grin on Lenny’s face evaporated. He dropped the gas cans and ran.

The second guy grabbed a tire iron from the bed and met Jon half way. The man swung and Jon turned to the side. The length of metal brushed the front of his shirt. Jon landed a blow to the guy’s right hip. He screamed, but was able to stay on his feet.

Somehow the man turned on his heel, moving a lot faster than Jon anticipated. The tire iron grazed Jon’s shoulder. As the guy stepped into his downward swing, Jon delivered an underhanded blow. The bat caught the man just under his ribs. The impact folded him in half and he collapsed. A gurgling bark bubbled out of his gaping mouth.